


Wait Is What I Will Do

by BrevitySoulWit93



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur is dead, Canon Compliant, Canon Era, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Lost Love, M/M, Post-Battle of Camlann (Merlin), Post-Episode: s05e13 The Diamond of the Day, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:55:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27994113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrevitySoulWit93/pseuds/BrevitySoulWit93
Summary: After the battle is over and done, Merlin mourns.
Relationships: Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	Wait Is What I Will Do

**Author's Note:**

> I just finished my 8th rewatch of this show and it never gets any less painful. This fic in un-beta'd so any mistakes are my own. It's also my first foray into writing for several years, and the first time in this fandom I have loved for so long. 
> 
> I always assumed the scene we never saw in the last episode was Percival following Morgana's tracks, meeting Merlin on the banks of the lake and taking the truth back to Gwen. This is my little take on how that would go. 
> 
> Naturally I do not own anything Merlin related - the characters belong to The BBC/Shine.

Stillness. The water lapped gently, almost soundlessly, at the shore. An endlessly blue sky stretched overhead, so sure of itself and the joy it was intended to bestow. Merlin felt none of this joy. He sat hunched in the grass, heels digging into the ground, arms around his bent legs with his chin resting on his knees. His gaze was unfocused: painful eyes resting blearily on the small island and tower in the distance, no longer quite able to see, so long had it been since he had blinked. So long had it been since he had moved. A chill had settled into his bones long ago, freezing him to the spot he had collapsed upon after sending the boat away carrying the most important part of himself. 

Dully, he wondered how long he could wait here, in this place where his world had crumbled to dust. A small part of him yearned to rail against the sun in the sky; how dare it continue to shine, when the very reason for his existence had ceased to be! He wished to strike the birds out of the trees - to tear the flowers from the soil and his own heart from his chest. He knew it would make no difference. Arthur was dead. 

For so many years he had fought for his love - though, damnable creature that he was, Merlin had not realised the true nature of his feelings until it was too late - and the future they had striven for. All in the name of destiny. 

Destiny. 

The concept would be laughable, had he the breath in his lungs to perform the action. Destiny had been his greatest enemy and he had failed to see it. Failed to see how destiny had guided him towards this very moment of sitting alone upon a lakeside, body emptied of tears and stomach twisting in an agony so profound he wondered how long he could survive it. 

He felt bile rise in his throat and fought the urge to vomit. Still he looked straight ahead, an immeasurable future of waiting stretching out before him, for Kilgarrah had promised him that Arthur would return. The face of his king swam in his mind - the sunlight shining golden on his hair, a wide smile and alert blue eyes regarding Merlin closely in some memory that could be one of hundreds; one of thousands of perfect days spent in the warm glow of each other. 

Something else they had failed to notice, in all their long years together. Not only their own feelings, but the feelings of the other. The smiles, the touches, the surety of their bond, the abject, utter trust and faith. Merlin’s gut twisted. All of that time, wasted. 

He drew in one shuddering breath, the anguish of it making his vision swim and almost knocking him sideways. He had been so sure he had defied the prophecy - so sure he had arrived in time to ensure the bright future he had dreamed of for so many years. The bright future that was to be brought about by the man who had shone with the light of the sun, beloved by all who saw him. The man who now rested peacefully in Avalon, his slumber to remain undisturbed until the world once again had need of him. 

Who had the more cruel fate, Merlin wondered. Arthur, or himself? He was doomed to wait and watch over this place for the rest of his miserable existence with no one beside him. Arthur was to be summoned back into a new life that Merlin had no concept of, to fight a battle not even the most gifted seer would be able to imagine. Were neither of them to have true peace? Was their lot to continue in this cycle forevermore, to love and lose one another over and over again until the world ceased turning? 

Magic trembled under his skin, almost as though to remind him that he was still living, and had to continue on. It pooled in his fingertips and murmured in his mind, reminding him that if he stayed in this place, neither of them would be truly alone. He would stay here and meld into the magic - become one with it. Arthur’s spirit was in the water, the earth, the air - he too was made of the magic of the world, and such a deeply woven part of it that he was present in every atom. Merlin breathed it in and held the air within him until his chest ached with it. 

Behind him, a twig snapped. For the first time in what felt like days, he turned his head to see the enormous figure of Sir Percival loping down the bank looking almost as destroyed as he himself felt.  
“Merlin!” He called, jogging over and falling into a heap in the grass next to him. Up close, he looked exhausted. “Where’s Arthur?”  
“Gone,” replied Merlin, his voice roughened and his throat still raw from the screams of agony that had been ripped from him in Arthur’s final moments. Percival’s answering groan rumbled through his chest. The sound made Merlin’s eyes spill over unbidden, and he turned fully to his friend with a tiny, broken gasp that sounded for all the world like his heart shattering all over again. 

Every muscle, every sinew of his body protested with the movement and no sooner had he looked away from the island, he felt a magnetic pull to look back. He could not afford to look away - not for one second. His heart hammered in his chest, afraid and alone and so very, very lost. Percival gathered him into his arms without preamble, allowing Merlin to collapse upon him in a storm of grief. He raged, sobbed, screamed and pounded his fists against the broad chest all the while feeling little solace from the strong arms around him. 

There was only one embrace which would bring him comfort, and it was one that, at this moment, he was certain he would never survive to feel again. 

Without intending upon it, he began to talk, telling Percival everything. The magic, the prophecy, the love that burned in his nerves and blood and bones so powerfully he was sure he would be consumed by it. He spoke of his own failure, not only in keeping Arthur alive but also for being the cause of Morgana’s hatred, for Lancelot’s death, and for failing to bring magic back to the land. 

Percival was ever solid, quiet and stalwart, only interrupting the lengthy silence that followed to deliver the blow of Gwaine’s passing. The knights own eyes had begun to glisten, but he wiped them dry with the back of one hand. He spoke of following Morgana’s tracks, of finding her body in the woods - and vowed to help Merlin upon his return to Camelot. 

Merlin pulled away, settling his palms on the earth as if to draw strength from the ancient magic held beneath. Peace had indeed come, but at what cost? His friends, his brothers, his love: dead. There was nothing for him in Camelot now. His reason for being - Arthur - was in this place, and so here he would stay.  
“Can’t you feel him, Percival?” He murmured softly, closing his eyes and tilting his face up to meet the breeze that chose that very moment to brush feather light across his skin like the gentlest of kisses. “He is everywhere. He was born of magic as old as time itself. It is because of his birth that I came to be. We belong together. For this reason, I cannot return to Camelot with you.” 

The corner of his lips quirked in what was almost a smile, as he imagined Arthur rolling his eyes and giving him a clip around the ear for excessive sentiment and melodrama, all the while grinning like a demented fool. What he wouldn’t give for their horseplay now. 

His friend regarded him with sadness in his eyes, turning towards the island himself and absently placing a hand over his heart.  
“You say he will rise again?”  
Percival’s other hand balled into a fist and he stared straight ahead, shoulder to shoulder with Merlin.  
“It is foretold.”  
Once again his stomach dropped like a stone, overwhelmed with the burden of destiny and the unknowable shape his future would take. 

They said their goodbyes, Percival promising to deliver a faithful retelling of Merlin’s story to court and the queen. He gripped Merlin’s arm a fraction too tightly, searching his face for any sign of him relenting. The sorcerer schooled his features into a peaceful expression.  
“Don’t worry. My place is here now. I’ll be fine - I am with Arthur, and he is with me. Whether I have to wait one year or a thousand, wait is what I will do.”  
Percival mounted his horse and departed without a backward glance, leaving Merlin alone with his thoughts. 

He dropped back down into the spot he had vacated, re-settling his chin upon his knee and seeing nothing but the tower in the distance. With grim finality, he repeated his words, reaffirming his goal, his oath - his destiny.  
“Whether I must wait for one year or one thousand, Arthur… Wait is what I will do.”

**Author's Note:**

> After the year we have all had, a kudo or an encouraging comment would be appreciated! Love to you all, stay safe.


End file.
